


Unnecessary

by thisprettywren



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bondage, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprettywren/pseuds/thisprettywren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/6487.html?thread=33348695#t33348695">this prompt</a> over at sherlockbbc_fic: Lestrade ties John down, they have amazing sex. The end :D</p><p>So, just a shamelessly blatant PWP. Could be read as a follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/164053">Required</a>, if a shamelessly blatant PWP can be said to be a sequel to anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnecessary

“You do realise this is entirely unnecessary, don’t you?” John said, looking up to where his arms were connected to the headboard, twisting his wrists to test the ropes. “I’d hold still if you asked me.”

“I know you would,” Greg said, chuckling as John obligingly lifted his hips so Greg could ease down his trousers, “which is rather the whole _point_. You and your orders. I don’t want you to hold yourself still, I want to do it for you.” With a triumphant flourish he pulled the trousers down over John’s feet and tossed them haphazardly over a nearby chair, started in on his socks.

“But this way I can’t—“

“Exactly.” He grabbed John’s ankles and pulled him down lower on the bed. “Shoulder okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” John quirked his mouth, then settled back against the pillow with an air of exaggerated resignation. “All right, then, if you want to do all the work, feel free. About time, I say.”

“I don’t hear you complaining. Usually.”

John huffed a small laugh in his throat, then frowned up at him. “You aren’t going to get undressed?”

“Not yet,” he answered. “Busy. Things to do, you know.” He let his fingers play along the inside of John’s foot, nails scratching along the hollow just below the bone of his ankle, and John shifted slightly. When he started running his nails all the way up to the inside of his knee and back down, John tugged at his wrists again, his face twisted in something almost like chagrin.

He was enjoying it, that much was obvious. _Quite_ obvious, in fact, and Greg grinned at him.

“If all were fair,” Greg said in a low, quiet voice, “I’d make you wait. I do owe you.”

John shot him a look, raising one eyebrow just a hair. Just enough to make his point.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Greg said, and settled next to John on the bed, letting his fingers play up and down the other man’s side, over the jut of his hipbone, inside the dip below his lowest rib.

John licked his lips and tried to keep from squirming. He wasn’t usually ticklish but Greg could tell he’d get him there if he kept that up; the idea was briefly appealing, but he pushed it aside. Another time, perhaps. John was impatient and, truth be told, Greg didn’t feel particularly inclined to draw this part out, either.

(They’d done this sort of thing before, with John in Greg’s cuffs, and the bruising metal made them both half-frantic, needing _now, more, faster_. It was rough and cathartic and over almost before it began. There was something about the rope, though—the time it took to twine it around and around John’s wrists, the thought required to make sure the the knots were placed just right—that slowed them both down, made it feel somehow more… well, not _permanent_ , that really wasn’t the word. Considered. Steady.)

Greg moved so he was straddling John’s thighs, pinning the other man completely, and ran both hands up along his sides. John took a deep breath and Greg could see him trying to relax, fixing his eyes on the ceiling and twisting his wrists almost idly, and clearly what he needed was a good, old-fashioned distraction.

“Still okay?”

“Yep. Feel free to take your time, you know, I’ve got all—“

Greg smirked and bent forward, taking just the tip of John’s erection in his mouth.

John drew in a breath, arching his back. “Or that, yeah, okay,” he hissed, and when Greg chuckled the the reverberations made John’s eyes flicker closed, his breath catching. “Come up here a minute, will you?” he breathed, and _yes_ , that seemed like just the thing, the slow slide of cloth against skin ending with their mouths pressed together, breathing the same air.

John’s lips opened to Greg’s tongue without hesitation, warm and welcoming, and he pressed his hips up against Greg’s still-clothed ones when Greg smiled against his mouth. He hooked one calf around the back of Greg’s hips, trying to draw him closer.

“You know, for someone who said he’d hold himself still…” Greg teased, lips moving against the side of John’s throat, reaching blindly for the bottle of lube on the side table.

“Funny, coming from the man who said I shouldn’t have to,” John grinned breathlessly, letting his head fall back as Greg slicked one hand and reached down, running his fingers back until they were playing against John’s entrance, one pushing slowly inside.

John’s breath shuddered against his mouth as Greg worked him open slowly, pressing a second finger inside, brushing against that sensitive bundle of nerves. His hips jerked and Greg could see his arms straining, hands clenching against nothing. “Relax,” he said, brushing his lips lightly against John’s scarred shoulder. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m _not_ , actually, stop _fussing_ , just—“

He was right, of course. “All right, all right. Tell me what you want.”

“You. God, _you_. Now, please, with— fuck, why are you still _dressed_?”

They both laughed and Greg sat back, undoing his belt and the zip on his trousers, easing down the waistband of his pants to free his erection. _Now_ sounded lovely, especially when John said it like that, and he wasn’t about to argue. John watched as he tore open a condom and rolled it on, kept watching as he slicked himself and edged forward between John’s drawn-up knees, sitting back on his heels and manoeuvring them both until John’s arse was resting in his lap and he was positioned against John’s entrance.

Then it was all _heat_ and _close_ and catching inhales as he eased himself slowly inside.

John’s eyes were locked on his and Greg watched John watching him and this, _this_ was what he loved about him, the open, honest acceptance on his face, and just for a moment everything was still, suspended and perfect.

Then John shifted his hips and it was perfect in an entirely different way. “Yeah, just like that,” John murmured, over and over, and Greg gripped the other man’s hips and tried to think about something else, tried to make it last, but his eyes and mind were full of _John_ , and John was full of him, and—

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” John said abruptly and Greg felt the other man’s muscles clenching around him. Greg wrapped one hand around the base of John’s cock and that was it, John falling over the edge and taking Greg with him, eyes open, breathing one another’s name and grinning because it felt _right_ , comfortable, they couldn’t have timed it better if they’d tried.

John let out a long shuddering breath as Greg eased them apart, standing slowly and walking on shaky legs to the loo. He stripped off the condom and cleaned himself up; returning to John with a handful of tissues which he used to clean the mess off his stomach. John just watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, a relaxed smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Greg lay alongside John, stretching himself out and reaching up with his mouth to kiss John’s still-bound wrist, lips brushing against the edge of the rope. “Still okay?”

“Bit better than that, I’d say. I’ll let you do the work anytime.”

Greg chuckled, low in his throat. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he said, reaching down to pull the blanket over them and wrapping his arm around John’s chest and settling his head beside John’s on the pillow. Waited.

John actually held out for several breaths—long, controlled cycles of inhale-exhale—which was longer than Greg would have guessed. “So you’re not going to… ah….” He twisted his wrists, frowning slightly.

Greg smirked at him. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit, then see if I’m up for any more work. Not quite as young as I used to be, you know.”

“You’re serious.” The look on John’s face was wary; not nervous, exactly, but hesitant, like he couldn’t convince himself one way or the other as to whether Greg might be joking.

“Mm. Dead serious,” he said murmured against the side of John’s neck. “Unless, of course, you have some objection.”

John took a long breath, stretched and clenched his fingers thoughtfully. “No,” he said finally. “No objection.”

“Good man. Hate for you to make a liar of yourself so quickly. You did say _anytime_.”

“Oh, God,” John said with a self-deprecating huff of breath, face cracking into a grin as he turned his head so that his eyes were just inches from Greg’s own. “I _did_ , didn’t I.”

“You did.”

John’s smile was the last thing Greg saw as he drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd still be there when he woke up.


End file.
